


Hear Me

by Deannie



Series: Tank [3]
Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1903440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I was yelling 'I'm right here, guys!' " The laughter dies away abruptly and I close my eyes again, back in the closet. "I'm right here."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hear Me

Everything tastes _great_! I bet I could eat spinach right now, and it'd be as great as a pineapple pizza.

Not that they'll let me have anything as substantial as a pizza--or even spinach. No, Petey's stuck with soup and crackers for a few days--but even this hospital soup tastes like heaven!

"I can't believe you're actually eating that, Pete."

"What, are you crazy?" Wow... A whole sentence--all understandable and everything! Maybe Jimmy's right. Maybe I _will_ survive.

Which is good, cause they're not letting me have anything sharper than a spoon right now.

"This is the only time" this shit will "actually taste _good_ " to me.

Okay, one sentence a day. That's enough to ask, right?

Zed's shaking his head, a smile plastered to his face. I know it still kind of freaks him when I don't exactly say all the words, but he's dealing. Better than Ray is, anyway. Speaking of...

"Where the hell are they?"

Winston looks at his watch and shrugs. "They'll be here soon, Pete, chill out." Chill out, he says. He's not the one who's spent almost a week in the hospital! "Anyway, the doc's gotta see you again before you can go."

Stupid freaking doctor! I hate that guy!

Whoa... Temper, temper, Petey. Remember what Jimmy said. Anger is just a side effect... Yeah--a side effect of Guider's shitty bedside manner!

"Be glad to see the last of him, huh, buddy?" Winston's laughing at me!

No. Winston's laughing _with_ me. I just don't know I'm laughing, apparently.

"You have no idea, Zed."

"I think I do." His eyes are darker now. Figure he'll be as glad for me to be out of here as I am, huh?

Just as I'm trying to think of something to say--I never noticed how much people _need_ to talk over silences--Ray and Egon waltz in. Ray's not bouncing, but then, he hasn't been bouncing for a while. I don't want to kill him anymore--just smack him with a two-by-four until he smiles again.

I've been trying to explain about the whole 'inappropriate anger response' facet of this thing, but I can barely figure out how to say hello, much less explain psychology to an engineer... He'll be okay. As long as I can get him talking again, and show him I'm not going to strangle him when he does...

"I see you're following doctor's orders, Peter?"

"Sure, Spengs--anything to get out of here."

Okay, this is ridiculous! Two weeks ago--wait, a week ago _here_ \--Egon would be zinging me good, not smiling like a nut because I managed a whole sentence. Shit. This whole thing just makes me want to kill mys--

"Peter?"

Don't worry, Egon. Just a little suicidal ideation. It'll pass.

It _will_ pass, won't it?

"Pete's been telling me how great the hospital food is." Thanks, Winston. Just keep talking, okay? "Maybe he's ready for your chili, Ray?"

Oh yeah, no sensory overload _there_!

"I think he'd probably want something a little less spicy."

Quiet Ray. Shit, I hate that.

"No way, Tex. Bring on the heartburn express."

Smile, Ray. Come on, damnit, _smile_!

Okay fine. Don't. See if I care.

"When is Dr. Guider supposed to make his appearance?"

Egon's really gotten good at talking past the awkward moments this week. It sucks that he has to, but... Shit, why can I talk to Jimmy about all of this, but I can't even talk to my best friends!?

"Twenty minutes ago," Winston declares with a frown. "I think that man needs a new watch."

"Nah. Just new patients."

Look, I made a funny...

At least Egon's smiling. Sort of.

"Dr. Venkman? Leaving us already?"

Oh good, saved by the asshole. "Just freeing up the bed... for someone who's sick."

"Well, I wouldn't say that doesn't include you, but at least you're well enough to get better at home." Any place that you aren't is where I want to be, buddy.

No, not really. I really just want to be _home_. I miss... I miss everything. Well, I don't miss the closet, but--

No panic attacks, Pete. They'll only make you stay here.

"Blood pressure's still a little high..." Can't imagine why, Doc. Bet it plummets when you leave. "But I'd say you're progressing quite well." You know, Jimmy said the very same thing. Wish I believed _one_ of you. "Perhaps you boys would like to take him home?"

Yeah, take me home and "wait on me hand and" foot.

"You got it, home boy. Hand and foot." Show off. I would have got the foot part if you'd have given me a second. Winston's smiling, but there's this tight grin on Egon's face, and Ray's still...

Wait a minute... You guys _do_ want to take me home, right? I mean...

No, you want to take me home, you're just afraid I'll freak while I'm there. Not going to happen--I won't let it happen...

Just don't ask me to go anywhere near the closet, okay?

Anywhere but there.

***********

"...hovering, Zed... fine."

Yeah, right. I'll buy that when you can get a whole sentence out of your mouth.

Pete's frustrated as hell, but in that, he isn't any worse off than the rest of us. He's been wandering around all day when he should be in bed, like he's terrified we're all going to disappear on him.

Shit, guess I'd be afraid of the same thing, given the circumstances.

"Ready for dinner, home boy?"

"What's... cooking?" he asked, a big smile shining across his face--just for a second.

Hell, yes, he's ready for dinner. Boy's been eating like a horse for the last four days. Wish I saw some sign it was doing him any good. I know the doctor said he'd gain it back, but... Pete's never been a heavy guy, and fifteen pounds is a lot for him to lose in a day.

At least, it was a day here.

"Soup and salad. And don't give me that look, Pete. You're lucky you're on solid food as it is."

"...mother..."

"You don't want me to be your mother, Pete. Trust me."

He follows me into the kitchen, still afraid to let me out of his sight. Ray's heating up the soup his Aunt Lois dropped by, and he stiffens as we enter. I don't know what we're going to do with that kid. Pete can't work his usual magic the way he is now--and damnit, that's the problem! Ray's still afraid he's going to make things worse, and Pete's trying like hell to make them better!

"...not cooking, Tex."

Ray's shoulders sag for a second, but he tries to bounce back, turning with a smile even _I_ don't buy. "Don't worry, Peter," he reassures quickly. "It's Aunt Lois's."

"Good... food of the gods."

"I'm sure she'll be glad to hear your estimation of her cooking abilities, Peter." Egon waltzes in, almost like he timed it. Shit, he probably did, at that. He's been popping up at just the right times today, staying on the sidelines, but there when Pete needs him.

Pete seems to want _me_ around more, which is just too strange. Not that Pete and I don't spend a lot of time together usually, but Egon's the one he goes to for security. Nobody thinks about it much, but Egon was the first person Pete ever really let in... He's Pete's symbol of Safe.

But today, he's hung around wih me, not ignoring the guys, or anything, just... it's like he feels he can trust me not to talk too much.

Or maybe he just thinks Egon wants _him_ to talk too much. And Ray? Damn, Ray _needs_ him to talk, and that's too much pressure.

I get Egon's point--Pete's got a lot bottled inside him, just now. But pushing's only going to make things worse, and Egon can push Peter to talk just by being in the same room. So Egon's staying away. At least _his_ point makes sense... Ray's just feeling guilty, and that's going to make things harder in the long run.

We all try not to hover as Pete starts eating, but he gives us all a frustrated look as he downs his first spoonful and gestures for us to join in. Damn. I know we gotta keep to easy foods for a while, but I could sure go for a steak.

"...not steak, but it's good..." Good, what, Pete? Good enough? I hate that I gotta try to figure out what he meant to say, instead of just listening to him say what's on his mind.

Jim thinks the fact that we're all trying so hard to figure it out is what's making Pete stay quiet. He doesn't try to talk, beyond the niceities, and it's like he doesn't want us to misinterpret what he can't say. He's talking to Jim, though, that much I can tell from the sessions Ray and Egon and I have had with our new psychiatrist. And the fact that Pete won't talk to _us_ is just tearing me apart.

I shouldn't take it personally, I know, but it's hard not to when the one guy I could always count of to speak his mind... can't.

"Janine rescheduled that bust in Queens for next week," Egon puts in. I want to hit him--look at Pete's face, man! Why'd you have to remind him that he's messing up the schedule, here? I look back at Egon, though, and my anger fades. The shock on his face says he didn't mean it to come out like that... Maybe he was trying for normal...

I _think_ I remember what that's like.

"You should go."

A whole sentence. A whole damn sentence, laced with frustration and way too much pain. And anger. God, Pete's so damn angry, and I don't think he'll even admit it to himself.

And I wonder why.

I'd be pissed if I was him. Jim's... homework... for today was to figure out what it must have been like for Pete... And damn, I'm surprised he'll even look at us.

Though come to think of it, he's not even doing _that_ much...

*********

I doubt Peter will sleep.

Somehow, I doubt he will even enter the room.

As I remember well how little I wished to be here after the Boogeyman made his appearance, I can hardly blame him for wishing to avoid it, but I also suspect that James has made it clear that this is something he'll have to do. And as James appears to be the only person Peter is listening to these days...

He stands at the door for a moment, avoiding the corner of the room, and focusing on me. I know Winston and James are both right--we can't _make_ him talk, not now. But to have him gazing at me with an expression I'm not sure even I can read, looking haggard and worn and so... at a loss...?

I don't have a clue of how to help him.

"Hey, Egon... your blanket?"

I begin to hand over my extra one before I catch the extreme frustration on his face, and freeze. He didn't wish to borrow a blanket, did he? Why is it I can never figure out what he meant to say? We have moved far beyond verbal communication in our friendship, but it is as if the link between us has been cut, and I can no longer reach him. Watching what may be the same thoughts run through his eyes, it hurts more than I can express.

"Where..." he tries again "is the... your mom made?"

Ah. "Slimer had... an unfortunate tendency to wish to sleep with _me_ while you were gone," I explain, fighting to sound nonchalant in the face of his, thankfully, waning irritation. "I hope the dry cleaners are able to salvage it."

"Sorry, Spengs... new friend." The grin on his face tells me the words he could not say, and I frown at him.

"I doubt he will ever give your bed up as a lost cause," I assure him, gesturing to the four poster in question, where Slimer has already settled in for the night.

"...just sleep on the couch, then."

Even as the words flow out, Peter catches himself--as much because Ray has entered the room as to stop himself from taking an easy way out. With a shudder visible to me from across the room, Peter walks forward, poking our ectoplasmic roommate sharply in what could be considered his ribs.

"Move it, Spud."

Of course. _This_ , he can say unimpeded. His mock hatred of Slimer is at least safe and familiar for him, if the rest of his life is not.

"Peeeter!"

The sound seems to be more than Peter can deal with at the moment, and Ray rushes forth, drawing the ghost away from an intended hug.

"Leave Peter alone, Slimer," Ray admonishes, still that sadness in his tone which has been evident since Peter awoke nearly a week ago. "We talked about this."

Peter crooks an eyebrow, shooting me an amused, questioning look. I simply gaze back, trying for my normal look of fake condescension that he used to know so well. It seems our old nonverbal cues still work for him a little, as he smiles broadly and turns back to watch Ray.

"Sorry, Ray," Slimer moans quietly, turning to shoot Peter a careful look. "Sorry, Peeeter."

"'Sokay, Spud." Slimer floats quietly to the hallway, giving Peter one more look. Peter, for his part, has advanced on Ray, careful to stay far enough away to satisfy his own current increased need for personal space.

"Talking the spud... off me, Ray?" He smiles, but the lines are too tight around his mouth. "I'm touched."

Raymond shrugs, staring diffidently at the floor. "I just figured... You know..."

"Yeah, Tex... I know." Peter reaches forward, placing a careful hand on Ray's shoulder, and forcing him to meet his eyes. "Thanks..." He is fighting to say each and every word he's thinking, and I can see Ray hanging on all of it. "You don't... need to treat... me like china... Tex... I won't... break."

That remains to be seen, but his words bolster Ray somewhat, and I see a tentative smile forming. "I just didn't want him to bother you, Peter."

I hold my breath, sensing Winston in the doorway, doing the same. Raymond is relatively easy to retrieve from his bouts of self-doubt... when Peter is around to help him. That the man with all the right words currently has them all stuck in his head has been a source of great difficulty for Winston and me this week, as we have tried to reassure Ray of his importance in Peter's recovery.

" _He_ bothers me... Ray... _you_ don't." And the look on his face: pain for Ray's worry mixed with Peter's peculiar twist of need for his friends...

At last. It has been hell waiting for Peter to be able to affect this cure, and I smile as I see Ray finally doing the same, his disbelieving "really, Peter?" smothered by Peter's comforting embrace.

At least Raymond will recover. I hope to say the same for all of us.

"Really..." Peter pulls away, and I can tell he meant to say more, but this seems to be enough for now. With a sigh, he braces himself, and turns--

To come face to face with his closet door.

"Peter?" It is Raymond's turn to lay a comforting hand as Peter swallows audibly. I approach from the other side, my own hand on his still-too-cool forearm.

"We're here, Peter... It's all right."

He nods, tearing his eyes away from the offending door. "I know you're... just..." He grimaces in frustration, but does not try to clarify. I don't ask him to--I simply squeeze his arm in comfort, and hope that will be enough.

"Time to... serious downtime."

"You said it, buddy."

Winston seems to put Peter at ease where Raymond and I cannot, and I must wonder whether it is simply his up front, open nature that does it. He rarely tries to suss out the meaning of Peter's fragments, and yet, he seems to know exactly what he meant to say.

And I find myself incredibly jealous.

But at least Peter has _someone_ now. Which is more than he had while locked in that damn closet.

"...bed, Spengs."

I smile involuntarily at Peter's demanding tone, so normal for him, though the words are fragmented. At times like this, I almost believe we will recover from this.

As I watch him crawl into bed, pointedly ignoring the closet nearby, I _almost_ believe...

**********

Can you hear me?

Guys?

Are you there?

Egon?

Ray?

"Somebody?"

Shit!

Shit, I'm okay. I'm here--I'm in the bunkroom. Not the closet. Never the closet...

I'm home.

God damn, I hate this.

I swing my legs off the bed, still a little shaky on my feet. I still don't think I've quite figured out I'm home yet. But I _am_ here. I can see... Shit, where's the light?

No! No light. If I turn it on, I'll wake somebody up--probably Winston--and then I'll have to try to make him hear me. Oh, God, I never thought _talking_ would be something I'd have a problem with...

I sway a little, catching the door jamb as I make my way to the bathroom, and, right on cue, Winston's sheets rustle a little.

"Pete?"

"I'm good, Winston... Just getting a... glass of water." God, I'm trying! "Go back to sleep."

"You sure?"

What, you don't believe me now, Zed? I'd be hurt if you weren't so damned on target.

"Yeah, Zed... Thanks."

I stand in the bathroom, wonderful light spilling all over me, and just breathe. I wonder if I can get the guys to leave a light on... Just one little light. I had one on in the hospital room all the time, so I never had to think--

The water splashing on my face still feels weird. It's like I remember what it feels like to feel, but I can't... feel it. Boy, do I sound like a Mamet play, or what? I should really try to go back to sleep. The doctors were all hemming and hahing about how screwed up I was when they brought me in. They said it was like I'd been missing a week, instead of just...

Oh God, it sure _felt_ like more than a day! It felt like... like... What did Barry say? Like I'd spent my whole life there?

Shit. This bathroom's too small! If I... If I turn that knob, it'll work, right? I'll be home? Not-- Not in--

Fuck. Okay, Peter, breathe... Remember what Jimmy was talking about... Open the door, listen to the sounds... Zed's snoring again... And Ray with his heavy breathing, and Egon's buzzsaw and...

Why are they all sleeping when I'm missing!

NO! No, I'm home. Feel the floor under your feet, Petey... Look at the wall... I...

God, I'm a mess.

Okay, Jimmy, you said I could call any time...

I pad down the stairs to the second floor, and realize that still isn't far enough away. Winston's on battle alert, and if I pick up the phone down here, he's going to hear it. And I can't... I can't deal with that right now. So, downstairs.

The light on Janine's desk is still on, and the big flood we have stationed over Ecto makes me feel a little better. I can see down here. Not like the bunkroom, all dark and... Don't do it, Venkman. Don't have yet another panic attack. It's only a little time in the tank--chump change, buddy.

Chump change.

"...Hello?"

"Shit, Felly, I'm sorry." Not like Felicity needs to be woken up in her condition. Hope she has that baby soon. "Is Jimmy around?"

"He's supposed to be somewhere else at 3:30, Peter?" There's a sympathetic grin in her voice. I'm really sick of sympathetic grins. I see too many of them these days. "Hang on."

She shakes him awake, and Jimmy's on the phone, perfectly lucid. "What's going on, Peter?"

Man, I never understood how he did that. We could cram all night, and he'd still bounce awake in the morning, ready for anything.

I hope he's ready for me.

"More of the same, Jimmy. I'm sorry I woke Fel up."

"It's okay. She's used to it--and not just from you, so stop with the guilt." Oh, pegged it in one. I wonder if he can figure out what else is going on. "How bad, this time?"

He can! See, I knew we were right in pushing him to go for the MD. Melissa always said he'd make a great doctor. I mean, just look how he dealt with Barry--

"Peter?"

"Um... does the phrase 'intrusive thoughts' mean anything, Jim?"

I can hear a rustle over the phone, and I figure he's sitting up. Amazing what you can pick up from listening when you can't see...

"Do you need me to come over?"

What? Oh, yeah... well I guess there _is_ a precedent for... those kinds of thoughts. "No, man, I just... need to talk."

He settles back with a squeak of the headboard, satisfied I'm not planning on offing myself in the next ten minutes. "So talk. I'm listening."

"I had a nightmare tonight... It didn't wake any of the guys up..."

I pause too long, and Jimmy takes up the slack. "What was it about?" Funny, _he_ always seems to know when I'm trying to talk and when I've run out of things to say.

I find myself shrugging in the empty garage. It's cold in here! "The usual... dark, I can't talk..."

"Nobody's listening?"

Damn, how did he do that? "Look, it's not that the guys don't _want_ to help, it's just that..."

Just that what? Um, Jimmy? Jump in any time, pal.

"Peter, you told me you were having intrusive thoughts?"

"Yeah." Shit, why'd I mention that? "They're kind of stupid."

"Come on, Pete, you're a better psychologist than that. Nothing's stupid right now."

Wait til you hear 'em, Jim. "I keep... I keep thinking they're... abandoning me... Like they should have been..."

"Like they should have been able to hear you?" Yeah. "They should have been able to get you out sooner?"

"Stupid, huh?"

"No, Pet--"

"I was trapped in there for--well, _here_ it was only a day--and they couldn't have known I was there, I just--"

"Peter, hold up." Jimmy's voice can be really intense, like he can cut through to exactly what I'm feeling. Like Egon used to do.

No. Like Egon _does_.

"Look, I don't pretend I know what you went through--I'm a better psychiatrist than that, too--but it had to have hurt to hear them searching for you in all the wrong places."

"But they didn't _know_!"

"It doesn't matter." Jimmy's tone is almost a command. He's listening. He's actually hearing what I'm saying... "Pete, why'd you call me?"

What? "Because I had a panic attack just going to the bathroom." I sigh into the semi-darkness. "Figured that called for a head shrinker."

"Why didn't it call for Egon? Or Winston?"

Okay, Jimmy, making it really hard for me to breathe here. "They wouldn't..."

"They'd understand, Peter. I promise you, given the discussions we've had, they'd understand."

The statement stops me in my tracks, and I feel anger rising--real anger for once, not just misplaced frustration. "You've been talking to them?"

"Yes, I have. Mostly because _they_ needed to talk to me." He snorts. "God, Pete, I knew you were self-centered, but... You don't think this is hard on them, too?"

My anger keeps bubbling. Doesn't matter that I know he's right. "Should you be talking to me about this--or has patient privilege been thrown out the window?"

"They never said I couldn't talk to you about this--Winston kind of _wanted_ me to." His voice is hard, like I'm shitting him to avoid the problem.

Maybe I am.

"None of them know what to do here, Peter. They're as in the dark about this as you are--maybe more so. After all, we're talking about _your_ brain."

I find myself grinning. "New and uncharted territory, huh?"

There's a smile in his voice, too. "Yeah, well... I'm charging hazard pay on this one, you know?"

"And you sure as hell deserve it, putting up with me."

He's quiet for a long time. Head shrinker quiet. 

"Why didn't you wake them up?"

"Oh sure, Jim. Because they need any more reasons to worry." Doesn't he get it? "They hovered over me half the day as it was--when I wasn't trailing after them like a puppy because I'm afraid to be alone." I snort, defeated. This is all just... too damn hard. "At least a few of us should be able to sleep through the night."

"You think they have been?"

"Well... sure! I mean, I figure they must have slept when I was in the hospital."

Didn't they?

"Peter, let me give you something to think about--we'll talk about it tomorrow when I drop by, okay?"

"Homework? Damn, Jimmy, I thought I was past that."

"Not this time out, you're not. Just think about this: What would it be like if you couldn't have heard them when you were in there?"

What kind of crazy assignment is that? "Jimmy, where'd you get your MD from again? CrackerJack U?"

The silence is deafening, and I sigh at the inevitable. "Okay. I'll think about it."

"Good. Now what else do we need to talk about?"

I catch the yawn before it's out of my mouth. I don't want to talk anymore. I don't... I don't want to _think_ anymore...

"I just want this to go away."

"It will, Pete, you know that."

"It didn't with... With Barry." I chuckle, a cold sound that bounces off Ecto's hood. "Well, it did, but it was kind of permanent."

"Peter, you're not Barry, and this isn't senior year." He sighs. "Man, I'm a hell of a lot more brilliant now than any of us were back then! If I can't help you pull yourself out of this, then I better burn my shingle."

"I'll bring the matches--"

"Peter--"

"Joke!" Oh, Pete! Lying to your therapist? Bad boy! "Come on, Jimmy, I _know_ it'll get better... I'm just still the impatient bastard I was when we were young."

"But twice as handsome, right?"

I preen over the line. "Damn straight."

"So we don't need to talk about... other intrusive thoughts?"

You mean killing myself and getting it over with? "No."

"Peter..."

"Jimmy, they're just thoughts. No manifestation, no acting out... Just thoughts."

"Peter, I'm going to head over there if you can't prove to me--"

"That I'm not a danger to myself, right?" I sigh. "I'm not, Jimmy. Honestly. Every freaking time I get one of them, they scare me shitless. I think that's proof enough."

He's silent for long enough that I start to worry he really _will_ come over and set up a suicide watch. But I'm not shitting him. I... It's probably the most alien thought to enter my head in this whole alien thing! I don't think... I could even figure out how to try it--much less want to.

"You need to promise me something, Peter."

He's too serious. Shit, he thinks I'm losing it. "Shoot, Jimmy."

"Call me if you ever--and I mean _ever_ \--get that idea stuck in your head."

"I won't, Jimmy," I tell him, as seriously as I can. "I don't think that idea sticks to my head."

He breathes a sigh, and I know I'm off the hook... for now. "I didn't think so either, but..."

But we didn't think so with Barry...

"Still waters run deep, Jimmy... And I am definitely not still waters."

"I know." And he does. He'd tell me if he thought I wasn't coping... I don't think I'd tell myself, but _he'd_ tell me.

"Now go to bed, Peter. And wake someone else if you need to talk, okay?" He hurries on, but I know exactly what he meant--the heart palpitations prove it. "Not that I don't love our midnight chats, but you've got some pretty well-qualified people right there, you know?"

"I know, Jimmy... Look, thanks for listening." Thanks for _hearing_ me. "Tell Fel I'm sorry I kept her up."

"Man, she's already asleep again! Pregnant women sleep like the dead."

I swallow hard. Did you have to use that word, Jim? I know we just established my lack of ideation but... I put on a smile that, thankfully, makes it into my voice. "They need to--it makes up for the two years of sleeplessness yet to come."

"Thanks, I needed to hear that." His voice softens. "Take care, Peter. I'll see you for lunch tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure thing, Doc."

I hang up the phone and just listen to nothing for a minute. I don't think I'm thinking those thoughts. I slip once in a while but they scare me so much... I got sent away once. I don't think I could do it voluntarily...

But I can't help wondering if this is how Barry felt, and why he--

"Pete?"

Winston pads down the stairs, looking for all the world like I'm a live snake.

"You okay?"

I smile--I actually mean it this time. At least a little. Just making "sure Jimmy's earning" his keep, "Zed." Shit! Why can I talk like a normal human being with Jimmy, but the guys leave me bumbletongued? I look up at Winston, noticing the puffy circles under his eyes for the first time. "Damn, buddy, you look" like you "could use a week in bed."

"Thanks for the fashion critique," he bites back cheerfully. Still, he walks down the rest of the stairs like he's about ninety, and he settles into the chair across the desk from me with a groan. "I'm too old for all-nighters."

"Least you" don't have home"work."

"What?"

Shit. See, the problem with not being able to figure out when I'm talking is that I can't... figure out when to shut up. "Nothing." Just "something Jimmy said."

"Assigned you homework, huh?" Winston smiles knowingly, holding my eyes. "Me, too."

I smile almost involuntarily, and my mouth spits out some words--a whole sentence worth! "Feel like you're back in school yet?"

"College was never this hard," he replies seriously. He's not letting go of my gaze, and I almost shiver when he speaks. "He told me to imagine what it was like for you."

I'm shaking now, and it has nothing to do with how god damned _cold_ it is down here. "I'm freezing, Zed," I declare, desperate to get away from this discussion. "Think I'm going to head upstairs."

"Peter, don't."

Two words. Two words spoken with so much pain, I freeze solid, right where I am.

"I'm sorry."

I shrug it off. "You didn't know."

"Doesn't matter whether I knew or not, buddy." No. It doesn't. It's like he can see the words in my face--like he's been able to see all the words I haven't been able to say this week--and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "We... We left you there."

No way! No friggin' _way_ can I do this--not tonight. Not ever! "Zed--"

"Pete, just listen for a minute--"

"I was listening for a whole God damned *week*!" I launch myself out of the chair, anger rushing back to me. I can almost understand that I'm actually saying every fucking word. "How much longer do you want me to do it!?"

He gets to his feet, blocking my escape, and it's like all the movement I _couldn't_ make in there, I'm making now. I push past him, harder than I probably should, and I'm at the foot of the stairs before he gets to his feet and turns me around.

"Pete, we're sorry! We didn't--"

"Know! I know, all right!? You didn't know--you're sorry." I drop to the steps, sitting boneless in one corner at the bottom, and I figure my voice has almost enough strength to reach him. "Doesn't help, Zed. It doesn't help one damn bit."

He sighs, almost falling as he sits next to me. The sensation of his thigh against mine still sends off shivers--my mind's not used to all this neural input yet.

"You must have been pissed," he offers.

Pissed? I almost laugh. "Jesus, Zed. Pissed is not the word." I run a hand through my hair, and wonder vaguely when the last time I really washed it was. Oh yeah, Friday--two weeks ago. Right now, it's just that the shower kind of freaks me out... And that first week didn't count--you can't wash a body you don't have.

"And we all were just going off, looking for you... And you were right there."

"I tried to let you know, Zed," I remind him, the words coming easily now. Sure, Venkman. _Now_ you can talk, when all you're going to do is hurt him. "I screamed at you--all of you. You just..."

"Weren't listening?" he ventures quietly. His arm goes around my shoulders, and I resist the urge to jump away. Physical contact--hell, _any_ contact--is what I _should_ be craving right now. But his words...

I close my eyes and for a second, I'm back in the closet, and I know, if I speak, he isn't going to hear me. Would it have really _made_ a difference if I couldn't hear them? Would not knowing they were looking in the wrong places, not knowing they were ignoring me... Would it have helped?

Or would it have made this even worse? Thrown back into the world to find out that, yeah, they tried, they didn't bother to look where I _was_... And they'd know that. What I wouldn't know was how much it tore them up that I was missing in the first place...

"I'm listening, Pete," Zed whispers, and I keep my eyes closed, just to feel what that's like. "We're all listening."

"I know, Winston, it's just that..." There are veins... Veins on the backs of my eyelids. "I'm afraid you're not going to hear me."

"So talk."

The words, spoken in direct response to _me_ , are so powerful, I feel myself start to cry. "I thought... I thought I was going to spend forever in there, just listening to you guys." I open my eyes, and find him crying right along with me, and somehow, that gives me the strength to continue. "I heard Ray... God, Zed, he was so broken up! I'd been missing like, twelve hours, and he thought... He thought his life was going to end... And Egon... And God, Zed, you sounded so tired!"

I'm losing it. I'm sitting here on the bottom step of the garage, losing it, and Winston's just... there.

Hearing me.

"And I thought... God, what if they never figure it out? What if I spend the rest of my life here, just listening to them worry and grieve and get on with theirs, while I have to... listen?" It would have been worse without the voices. I know that. As much as this hurts... I don't think I could have stood to have them go through it without knowing what they were feeling.

"Wouldn't have been that easy and you know it, buddy." His voice is gruff and tender, and he squeezes my shoulders as I sag into him. "We weren't planning on giving up any time soon."

"I know," I whisper. "But you would have... eventually." An anger flares in me, but it's ridiculous, and I'm laughing even before it breaks through. "And damn it, you weren't even looking in the right place! I had to listen to you all think about how to search for me, and I was yelling 'I'm right here, guys!' " The laughter dies away abruptly and I close my eyes again, back in the closet. "I'm right here."

"And you're staying here, Pete," Winston assures me, the hug he's got me in suddenly magnified by a hand on my knee and two more on my shoulders. Ray's looking up at me, but for once in recent memory, he doesn't look like he's crying. I crane up to see Egon, and he _is_ , but they're the kind of soft tears that signal release. Probably a lot like the ones I have on my face right now.

"Yeah, Zed," I reply, taking all of them in and smiling a real smile for the first time in a long time. "I'm staying."

I suddenly jump to my feet, and all three of them look at me in surprise. There's a time for maudlin introspection and there's a time for over-the-top gestures of the ridiculous. Master of both, I should know when's the time for each.

"Now, go to bed, all of you."

"What are you going to do, Peter?" God, Ray... Just seeing you smile is like... Perfect.

"I told you I'd do the laundry if you just got me out of there," I remind him, my smile turning devilish as his eyes bulge. "What? You weren't listening?" I start past them on the wide stairs, a grin a mile wide on my face. "Well, if you're not going to listen to me--"

The chase up to the bunkroom should wear us out nicely, I think.

No more nightmares.

Not tonight.

* * *  
The End


End file.
